This Doesn't Surprise Me
by gschelt
Summary: She's Pansy Parkinson, so of course Hermione will expect the worst. But Pansy's not being her usual self, and Hermione's not being fair. Pansy/Hermione in future chapters, femslash.
1. Chapter 1

Hogsmeade Village flurries about me like a pristine, quaint little snow globe as I trek, alone, down its cobbled street. Students, teeming packs of them, zigzag this way and that as they bustle, rosy and breathless, through the snow. A peal of laughter rents the air here and there, painting another splash of color on the bright gray sky blanketing the modest rooftops of the shops.

My breath dances ahead of me in a wistful, fleeting cloud of vapor, always just ahead with every hasty step I take. My pace is so hurried because it's freezing and my teeth are chattering and my shoulders are hunched and my hands are stuffed in my coat pockets. There's no place I'm really _going_; cold is the transportation if not the destination, because you hurry along wherever you go when you're freezing, even if it's nowhere.

My feet take me with the wind, gusting at my back and whipping my black hair about my face, down the main stretch of road and at the quieter edge of town. The ring of trees and patched fence overlooking the Shrieking Shack in the distance sit atop the wooded incline ahead. A bench lies there.

Draco's being an ass lately. That's really the only reason why I find myself tramping up a hill, alone, on a Hogsmeade weekend just before Christmas. Draco's being secretive and irritable, and without him to latch on to, I find I really have no company. I suppose that's what I get for being nothing but _his_ for six years (one misstep, snow in my boot, soaking my left stocking); a reputation, a crush on his mother, and no real friends. I lift my eyes to the skeletal canopy of branches, admit that I'm not very likeable anyways, and reach the top of the hill.

There's the bench, crumbling and frosted, unoccupied. But across the clearing, leaning on the rural fence and staring at the crooked Shrieking Shack, is Granger. In profile she looks like a greeting card, I think. Dreamy teenage girl in a scarf and mittens, propped against a fence and gazing out at the countryside as the snow flurries toss her brown hair to and fro. A doe poised in the thicket would perfect the scene.

The forest breathes and for a minute or two I go unnoticed. Then, out of her peripheral vision, Granger sees me and gives a slight start, her eyes widening and her already rosy cheeks going a deeper shade of scarlet. The fact that I'm rooted there to simply and silently, I think, catches her more off guard than if I had stormed up there shouting at her. I suppose I don't seem much the pensive type.

"Um, hi Pansy," she says slowly. Maybe suspiciously, even.

I look out at the glittering snow-covered landscape she had just been observing moments before. "Granger," I acknowledge curtly.

"Where's Malfoy?"

The question doesn't surprise me. It would have either been that or something along the lines of "what are you doing here?"

"Hogwarts," I reply. "Where's Potter?"

"Back at school, too," she answers coolly.

There's a silence and I look away again, grimacing from the bite of the wind. Its cold matches that of Granger's, which of course I expected. It's not like we're friends.

"Why are you here?" she says suddenly, suspiciously, cocking her head and looking at me closely.

I shrug noncommittally. "Heard you and Weasley broke up."

Granger looks at me for a moment, her brow wrinkled and nostrils flaring, then she turns her face back to the Shrieking Shack and closes her eyes.

"You can leave me alone now."

This doesn't surprise me either. I know I'm not trustworthy and that I would seem malicious. But I don't leave. I stand quietly for a moment in the same spot, trying to control my emotions so it would seem I have none. Still, my voice comes out softer than I had planned and shakes slightly from hesitation.

"Yeah, true, heard you broke up," I begin slowly, my expression measurably blank, "But really, you can calm down because I'm just-"

"Just what, here for a go at me and a good laugh?" she bursts out, whirling around to face me. Her brown eyes are livid and the color is rising in her cheeks.

"I'm sure you'd love to just _humiliate_ me, Pansy," she continues to fume, stalking towards me angrily, "but I'm really not in the mood so you can just _get the hell out of my face_."

By this time, she's come so close that her nose is nearly touching mine. She stands, staring me down, chest heaving. I don't move.

"What?" she spits breathlessly, a little confused. "You don't have anything to say?"

Another panting, crystalline moment drags by as I try to calmly gather my voice.

"I guess not," I say quietly, returning her gaze unflinchingly. "I guess I just thought this was my chance." Then I turn and go as she had asked me to, leaving her rooted to the spot, puzzled.

"Wait," she calls out, running to the edge of the clearing. "Chance for what?"

But I'm already at the bottom of the hill, reaching the street again, and I don't answer. The wind whistles around me, carrying the echoes of Granger's voice along with tumbling wisps of airborne snow.


	2. Chapter 2

The wind howls in and out of every nook and cranny of the castle; sliding across the battlements, splashing against the windowpanes, skirting around the towers. The corridors are cold, the dormitories are drafty, and far down in the dungeons you can even see your breath.

It's from the dungeons that I walk stiffly, desperately rubbing my hands together and trying to stifle my chattering teeth. It was foolish of me to have left the warmth of the Slytherin common room's fireplace, but it was even more foolish of me to have opted to stay in the drafty castle over the holidays. There's nothing to do but homework, and nearly all of my entire house, including Draco, is gone. It was his fault, really; since I thought that I was going to be spending the holiday at Malfoy Manor, as it had been _arranged_ months ago, my parents went to Kent to visit relatives. But Draco informed me days before break that there was no room for me in the Malfoys' vacation home in Spain, the destination that no one had told me about.

So here I am, alone over holiday and feeling very stupid, because Draco forgot to tell me about Spain. It isn't the first time I've found myself screwed for investing so much in him. He's all I've got, honestly, and it really comes back to bite me sometimes.

But would I have it any other way? Do I honestly want meaningless friends? Lip gloss, secrets in folded notes, carefree teenage years? What are smiles, cliques, and prospective boyfriends to me? That's everyone else, and I've got my own world.

So what is there to do on a Tuesday in a nearly deserted Hogwarts? I tried homework, sitting in a high-backed chair near the fire, but the last thing I want to do now is synthesize chemical imbalance equations for Potions. Neither am I interested in the history of Voltaire's warlock cousin. No, I don't know where I'm headed, but once I'm out of these freezing dungeons anywhere will be better.

By the time I look up from my footsteps on the gray flagstones, I'm already halfway up a flight of stairs. The gentle and faraway moan of the wind outside and the cool smoothness of the banister under the palm of my hand seem to be the castle shrugging, telling me there's no place I have to be. It's a comforting thought, even though at the same time it means I'm completely on my own.

I toss my hair casually, inhaling and stepping onto the next landing, and surprise myself for a moment by thinking that somehow it's better this way. After a minute or two, as I find myself in the doorway of the library, the thought doesn't seem quite as surprising anymore.

I'm instantly relaxed by the spicy, musty smell of old leather and parchment. As I slowly make my way down towering rows of books, I start to wonder why I don't come to the library more often; then I remember that it's usually not empty like this.

"Pansy?"

I'm not like Granger in Hogsmeade; I don't jump, startled, and my eyes don't widen. They flutter, half-lidded, as I turn towards her.

Sitting at a round table with several volumes of Ancient Runes spread out in front of her, Granger looks surprised to see me once again. She sets down her quill, looking at me with color seeping into her face and her mouth slightly open.

"Hi," I murmur, slightly distracted by the way she chews her lower lip as she scrutinizes me.

"What are you doing here?" she says automatically, and the combination of déjà vu and her predictability almost brings a small smile to my lips.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully, shrugging. "The common room's dreadfully cold and empty, and this is where my feet took me."

"And why…" she begins, unreadable, "Why are you still here, in the castle? Over holiday?"

I shrug again. Her blunt curiosity really doesn't surprise me. "I guess I haven't really got anyplace else to go."

"Oh." She doesn't seem concerned at all. More embarrassed than anything, but I figured she would be. Slightly pink, frowning, and awkwardly looking at her lap.

Instead of staying in character and standing still, letting the uncomfortable silence simmer, I cross behind Granger's chair and sit beside her.

"What are you studying?" I ask quietly, leaning over slightly. She opens her mouth to answer, then cocks her head and shoots me a quizzical look.

"What did you mean the other day? Chance for what?"

She breathes in and out a few times, waiting for an answer, her intense brown eyes narrowed expectantly at me. All the books on the shelves seem to match her respiration, swelling richly and gently in the tense pause.

"Well," I murmur (my lips hardly move as I inch closer),

"I suppose," (my chin is slanted towards the ceiling and she silently watches my lips, inches away, through half-lidded eyes)

"Some kind of rebound, or something…" (my eyelids shut out the library, and all I know is the gentle friction of our shoulders and lips, respectively, as we kiss).

I can taste her mouth, salty, hypnotized, and unmoving. We stay rather still, lips motionlessly brought captive, together, like a handprint in cement. She holds her breath and seems to forget herself, mouth slightly parted and not yet pulling away, and somehow I'm slightly surprised.

But not for long.

She jumps back quickly as though burned, and I fall forward a bit. I didn't know my hand was resting on her knee until she gets to her feet, and my hand drops to my side.

"Um," she stammers, hastily gathering her scrolls and books and going red, "I have to…" She slings her bag over her shoulder and avoids looking at me. "I have to…" She shakes her head vigorously at the floor and brushes past the table, unable to find any more words as she hurries down the rows of bookshelves and out of the library.

I pick up a scroll from the floor and set it on the table in front of me. As the jumbled Runes gaze up at me, I close my eyes and wonder why, deep down, I had known this would happen all along.


End file.
